


hearth

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, M/M, anymore, in which azula's fire spills from her and her brother doesn't recognise her, in which the world has shrunk down to a single erratic point, in which there is one last agni kai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24946951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: Azula has always been burning brighter than her body could support, has always been a hearth of perfectly coiled, perfectly blue flames eating away at her; has always been a fire fed of gas, and her own teeth, razor sharp and bent backwards - caught in between her own jaws and father’s calm, hot flames.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 109





	hearth

Azula has always been burning brighter than her body could support, has always been a hearth of perfectly coiled, perfectly blue flames eating away at her; has always been a fire fed of gas, and her own teeth, razor sharp and bent backwards - caught in between her own jaws and father’s calm, hot flames.

Azula has always been perfect. Perfectly calm, perfectly composed, perfectly executed, perfectly burning, not a hair out of place.

The girl who steps in front of Zuko is not Azula. Her hair is uneven, hacked off and barely tied up. Her teeth are buried in her own throat, and their father’s laughter is etched into the corners of her mouth. Her breaths come in heavy, desperate gasps, and her fire, perfectly blue, still, is spilling from her hands and from her mouth. Her eyes are dark.

He can feel the heat coming off of her in crashing waves, as if her every breath made the air crack and wither around her, as if every time her chest falls, the world trembles. In his guts, and coiled on his tongue, his own fire coils small and flickering; sparking light.

In the mess of Azula’s hair, barely holding on, lies their Nation’s crown. In between Azula’s teeth, latched into her own flesh, lies Sozin’s breath. Her mouth tilts further.

_I dare you to beat me_ , says Azula, says Ozai, says Sozin, say a Nation all but extinct, say a Tribe robbed of their benders, a kingdom torn to shreds. _I dare you._

Zuko takes a breath.

Katara next to him is the cool eye of a storm, water droplets static in the air, and she barely moves at all; for every heave Azula forces, Katara takes one calm, measured one. Her eyes are wet. For a moment, Zuko can almost see the man who murdered her mother crouched before her, rain drenched; and trembling.

In the low light filtering into the courtyard, she looks more like Sokka than he ever thought he’d see in her; the curve of her jaw, the look in her eyes – the way her body is coiled around her weapon, the way all of her is focused on a single, erratic point.

Azula laughs.

Zuko raises his hand and his fire and his life against the girl who is not Azula, but is.

In the end, Azula wins the Agni Kai and loses the war. In the end, her lightning burns in hot, bright blue perfection.

In the end she sits, shackled and dripping and screaming like a gas fueled fire, spilling over its own confinements. In the wake of it all, Azula is a hearth that burns too brightly for her body to sustain.

Zuko is a scar richer; star shaped and sizzling with all that has always been coiled into their family.

In the end, Zuko wakes with his head in Sokka’s lap, with his hand in Suki’s. Sokka’s hair is open and jagged at his chin, his hands soft, careful things in Zuko’s hair. On the edges of his scar.

Zuko takes a breath.

Suki presses a kiss to the back of his hand. Her lipstick leaves a mark dark on his skin, as dark as the ones on his knuckles, on his fingers, on his palms. Her make up is perfectly done, still, and her fans lie discarded next to them.

Katara’s water is cool and wet on the flimmering blue perfection of his scar, and behind them, Azula is still heaving, heavy with chains.

Her fire doesn’t burn, anymore.


End file.
